


Drum Shopping

by LokisGirl



Category: Gojira (Band), Lamb of God (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisGirl/pseuds/LokisGirl
Summary: While in Brussels on tour with Gojira, Chris Adler's precious Lamb of God drum kit is accidentally run over by a truck. When he goes to buy a new one, Mario goes along to play interpreter. They find more than a drum kit.
Relationships: Chris Adler/Mario Duplantier
Kudos: 3





	Drum Shopping

Mario and Joe Duplantier stood by the Belgian hotel’s front door, looking at a free newspaper in hopes of finding a movie to see before sound check. Neither one of them heard Chris come up behind them until he cleared his throat trying to get their attention.

“Allo, monsieur Adler! Did you sleep well?” Joe registered the look on the bearded man’s face and immediately asked, “What is the problem?”

Chris looked pissed. It was out of place on his normally friendly face. “One of the drivers decided to move his truck without checking his mirrors and ran over half my gear. My drums are destroyed.”

“Merde! “ Mario looked shocked. If anything happened to his drums, he would be devastated.

“Something like that,”” Chris deadpanned. “I called Mapex, and they won’t be able to get a new set out to me until Monday. That’s three shows from now.”

“You can play mine,” Mario offered. 

Chris shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right doing that. I’m hard on gear, especially pedals.”

Mario nodded, secretly relieved. Chris really did destroy pedals. “What will you do?” 

“It’s going to be difficult, but I guess I’m going shopping,” Chris shrugged.

Joe looked at Mario. “Vous devriez aller avec lui. C’est trop difficile pour lui communiquer ici.”

Mario agreed. “Oui, c’est ca.” He turned to Chris, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry for speaking French in front of you. It’s rude. Joe says I should go with you. Brussells is a French city. You will need help.”

“Thanks. I was hoping you’d say that,” Chris smiled.

Mario and Chris caught a cab. Once they were settled on their way across the city to a music store, Mario began teaching Chris the basics of what he might need to know. 

“Snare drum- Caisse Claire.”

“Case clear?” Chris repeated dubiously. His accent was atrocious. Mario giggled.

Caissssssse cl-air. ‘Air,’ like what you breathe,” Mario prompted.

“Caisse Claire,” Chris tried again.

“Much better! Toms are the same… what’s different?” Mario mused. “Ah, cymbals. Your ‘hi-hat,’ in French it is ‘Charleston.’”

“Charleston? Like the city in South Carolina?” Chris wondered.

“Oui, exactement come ca.” 

“Okay. That one I’ll definitely remember,” he smiled. “French is weird.”

Mario laughed. “Oh, no. You are the ones who are weird!”

“Back on task. Crash cymbal?”

“Crash.”

“Really?”

“Mais oui.”

“Bass drum?”

“Grosse caisse.”

Chris repeated it slowly. “Grossssse Cai-sssseeee.”

“Bien. Assez proche.”

“Sticks?” Chris prompted.

“Des baguettes.”

“No! You’re pulling my leg. Isn’t a baguette a loaf of bread?” he questioned, his bright eyes twinkling.

“Oui. It is also drum sticks. Much like your drum stick is also chicken.”

They both laughed this time. The rest of the trip passed quickly, Mario teaching Chris little phrases he would need for the shopping trip.

As it turned out, Chris had forgotten most of them by the time he needed to ask the clerk for things. He was completely overwhelmed by the speed of the clerk’s speech. After a few rounds of “plus lentement, s’il vous plait,” he’d thrown up his hands and let Mario take over. After that, the clerk had taken them directly upstairs to the drum room and let them have their way. Everything they had in stock was out on the floor, so it was more a matter of testing and selecting than having to converse. Chris and Mario fell into a technical conversation on the merits of various makes and models. Chris demonstrated why he needed the largest size of bass pedal available, and they laughed as Mario tried to copy his technique. Getting on the phone with Joe to arrange for someone from the crew to bring a van to the store, Mario blushed furiously when his brother’s first question was “Avez-vous l’embrassez?” He’d never been so glad they were French in his life. Joe was loud on the phone, and Chris could hear every word even if he didn’t understand most of it. Did you kiss him? “Plus tard. Je vais le faire venir a moi d’abord.” I’m going to make him come to me. Mario cut the conversation short, sticking to the slangiest phrases he knew to try and confuse even the clerk.

They checked out. The clerk smiled conspiratorially at Mario. “Bon chance a lui faisant notre blond. Il est tres beaux.”

Mario tried to play it cool. Keeping a straight face, he said thank you. The clerk looked from Mario to Chris and back again. In perfect English he said to Mario, “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.” Then he turned and disappeared behind a door marked Personnel Seulement. Mario and Chris looked at each other in amazement before cracking up. 

“I think he likes you!” Mario teased, covering up his mortification. 

“Then maybe he should have started speaking English when I got here!” Chris retorted. A runner from the management company arrived with a van to take drums and drummers to the venue. 

“It just doesn’t look right without our logo on it,” Chris commented, evaluating his new kit from the front of the stage. “Nothing to be done about it now though.”

“I think maybe most of the peoples will know who are without it,” Mario teased. “You do have the giant banner behind you. And even if they are blind, they won’t be deaf. Everyone knows a Lamb of God song when they hear it.”

“We are kind of distinctive,” Chris agreed. “My drums still feel naked without it though.”

Without thinking Mario opened his mouth. “No one will notice the drums naked if you play the show nude.” He slapped a hand over his lips in mortification as a deep blush burned his cheeks.

Chris spared the dark haired man further embarrassment. “I doubt anyone except the band and the crew would notice if I was starkers up there. My kit hides me pretty well. They probably wouldn’t care either, except for Willie’s guitar tech. She’s a bit of a prude.”

“Then you do it just for her,” mischief danced in Mario’s suggestion.

Chris leaned in towards the Frenchman. “I’d rather do it for you,” he whispered. A quick turn and he was jumping up onto the stage to finish his set up, leaving Mario to stand there savouring a combination of surprise, victory, and lust. Chris wanted him. That was easier than he could have hoped.

A few casual inquiries and a fake impromptu suggestion before the show left him with a perfect opportunity. He deftly guided his brother into setting up a poker game for bands and crew later that night, knowing that Chris was splitting a room with John, who could never say no to a game of cards. At the meet and greet, he made the acquaintance of an expat living in the city who ran a bar that sold American beers. He arranged to have a case of ‘something Southern’ sent to his hotel room. C’est ca, parfait!  
The set flew by. Mario paid more attention than usual to his technique knowing that Chris was watching side stage. The passion Chris had for his instrument was obvious and contagious. Mario was confident in his abilities, but being around Chris made him want to better himself. The high expectations Chris had for everyone around him were something Mario needed to exceed. He only made one small mistake during the show when he happened to look in Chris’ direction and caught him air drumming just like the kids in the crowd. It was so cute that Mario burst out laughing and missed a beat. Chris caught it, and the bird Mario flew him for an instant before picking up the right tempo again. He made a point of keeping his eyes on the crowd and the drums after that.

He stopped by the front desk at the hotel on his way back. A case of Legend beer awaited him there. That bar-owning fan must have planned ahead. It said ‘brewed in Richmond, VA’ right on the label. Mario couldn’t have wished for anything better. He carried the case upstairs, where he emptied the minibar to make room for it. After a hot shower to wash away the sweat and grime of the show he found the lager was good and cold. He loaded it back into the case and went off, prize in hand, to find Chris.

He knocked on Chirs’ door, feeling a little awkward. What if he’d misunderstood what Chris said? What if it was a joke he’d missed? He was about to run back to his room to hide when Chris answered. 

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Chris greeted him. He was casually dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that looked as if he might sleep in them. His hair was tied back, and Mario immediately noticed the long line of his neck.

“Allo. Hi,” Mario stumbled over his words, unsure what to say. “I met a man at the greet and meet tonight. He has a place here, and told me you might like this,” he held up the case. 

Chris looked shocked, in a good way. “Fuck me! How did you find that all the way over here? That’s back home stuff!” 

“I honestly can’t take the credit of it. I just asked him for something Southern,” Mario admitted. “I know you had- what’s the word? A stressful day.”

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Chris reassured him. “It was better than I expected, thanks to you.” He stepped back so Mario could enter the room. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t around to help me.”

“It was nothing,” Mario smiled shyly. “I was happy to do it.” He set the case down on the floor and passed Chris a cold beer. He took one for himself and sat on the only furniture in the room you could sit on- one of the narrow beds. Chris took a spot beside him. 

Mario pulled his keys out of his pocket. His key chain had a bottle opener on it. He popped the cap off his beer and passed the opener to Chris. Once he was done with it, he tossed it on top of the rest of the beer. Mario guessed that meant he was staying for a while. 

They clinked bottles. “Here’s to you, man. You’re a miracle worker,” Chris toasted Mario, who turned slightly pink under his mop of dark hair. He went to shake his head, but Chris stopped him, reaching out a strong hand to catch his chin and keep him from moving. “It’s true. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Today started out to be a total shit show. Instead I got to spend it with you. It turned out to be great. And getting even better. There’s just one more thing that would make it perfect.” Chris held Mario’s face with one hand, his warm eyes melting Mario’s insides. 

“What’s that?” Mario breathed.

“Can I…” Mario nodded slightly in Chris’ hand. Chris leaned in and kissed his full lips softly. He smiled.

“There. Perfect.” 

Mario could not have agreed more.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted elsewhere 2014-ish


End file.
